A SNOWSTORM IN SURREY. side had suffered as much as ours had. But here, as might be expected, a greater weight of snow had fallen, and, though it had done less mischief by clinging to the foliage and branches, it was deeper on the hill sides, and had drifted more heavily into the gullies, where the flocks would be likely to shelter themselves from the storm. We soon met the farmer, making the best of his way across the upland park, followed by his light cart, the shepherd, and, of course, his Scotch colly, "Lassie,” who seemed quite at home in the snow: so, joining the party, with spades and poles to feel our way, we struck across to the old sheep-rack whose roof was peeping above the snow. We, however, only discovered three, and had now to search the broken ground and ditches where the drift was deepest. Here "Lassie" showed she inherited some of the best qualities of her Highland breed, for, after a long look around, she made across the waste to where a noble beech lay uprooted at the borders of the wood, and plunging into the deep snow soon led us up to it; and there, in a kind of vault formed by the huge trunk and roots of the beech, were the lost flock lying, apparently without the least inclination or effort to aid themselves. It was a most picturesque sight. The purity and delicacy of the colour in and about the vault of drifted snow was beautiful; the transmitted light of the blue sky overhead was changed into tints of a greener tone; the stems and rich-coloured branches of the surrounding trees glowing in the sun, relieved finely against the deep blue sky, while the red brown of the dead beech leaves and bracken contrasted admirably with the snowy mantle. The light trunk of the beech, with its spots of lichens and moss, looked dark beside the purer tones of the snow; and the sullied wool of the poor helpless animals was more like yellow or brown than white. While the farmer and his shepherd were lifting the most benumbed of the flock into the cart to convey them home, we had time to look at the scene in an artistic point of view, and, although it was painful to see the noble beech, one of the chief beauties of our woods, prostrate and crushed, it nevertheless made a good picture. The trees along the skirts of the wood had suffered the most, several lying low; and through the gaps thus made we caught a glimpse of Leith Hill tower, with Holmbury and Euhurst hills white in the distance, standing guard over the weald of Surrey and Sussex stretched far away beneath them. The white summits brought to our mind grander Alpine scenes; but there is a great difference in the effect of these hills immediately after newly-fallen snow, and that of mountains where it only remains in the deeper and more sheltered valleys after the hot Summer's sun has melted it from off the prominent parts. The former effect is but transitory, and only suited as a background to incidents close at hand, such as is represented in our engraving; while the latter seems a lasting feature of the Alps themselves, without which their grandeur would be much diminished. A sudden fall of snow is a great disturber of light and shade, as well as local colour. Roofs that were rich in tone are now white, stone walls by comparison look dark. The clinging snow on the windward sides of trees reverses the light and shade; altogether, the young artist is sadly at a loss without the usual colour of objects to give them natural character. But such weather is not suitable for long musing, so again we seek the woods, anxious to see what damage has been done to our favourite trees; and with real sorrow we found many of the most striking despoiled of their chief limbs. Some, like our great beech in Deerleap, had all their lower branches weighted down to the earth never to rise again, sinking, however, so gradually and gracefully, with mantle so well draped around, that nothing seemed to become them so well as their death. The two fine cedar-like Scotch firs that our visitors from the North so much wished to draw were, alas! less yielding in their nature, and now they stood erect, but bereft of their lower branches, these forming a funeral pile at their base. The grand old yew in the Fore Walk, among the roots of which the village children had played, and whose topmost boughs had sheltered squirrels and ravens for ages, was now prostrate on the ground. On the hill-side, where the most noble beech-trees grew, the storm had swept with such force that all had fallen before it, and the ruins reminded one of the track of an avalanche. Here the woodmen were first set to work to clear the road to the mill; for the ruin extended so far on either side that to pass was impossible. It was pleasant after a time to leave these wrecks behind, and, passing along the lane to the higher and wilder ground, to notice the lovely forms into which the wind had sculptured the snow. There are few things more wonderfully varied and perfectly beautiful in form, and in colour, too, if one's eyes are at the same time delicate and strong enough to study it. The wind, at times so ungovernable and wild in its nature, produces, with its eddies and currents, curves the most subtle, and forms of inconceivable perfection. Then the exquisite shadows, the delicate transmitted light, and the loneliness of the surface, give to snow qualities so tender and refined that it is no wonder artists are afraid to attempt A SNOWSTORM IN SURREY. to reproduce its marvels with their imperfect pigments. As we left the spot, our very footprints, with their deep blue tint, were our constant admiration. When we came to the higher ground near Leith Hill, we were interested to see the tracks of various animals which had traversed it in search of food. Those of rabbits, of course, were the most numerous, and furnished a sure guide to the stealthy fox, which had evidently followed them to their burrows. The footprints of the pheasant, partridge, lark, and many smaller birds were to be seen, showing that our apparently barren hills are better populated than we had imagined. Even impressions of the webbed feet of a flock of sea-gulls, driven inland by the storm, were not wanting to complete the variety. Upon our return, we encountered numbers of our poor neighbours collecting the harvest of wood, and many a picturesque group, worthy of Gainsborough or Collins, did we see; for the squire, following the charitable example of his great forefather, and justifying the old proverb, that "it is an ill wind that blows nobody good," allowed the cottagers to collect all the branches they could carry, or drag home, saying that a great wood harvest would help to compensate them for their damaged apple-trees. WINTER MORNING. Is morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds, That crowd away before the driving wind, More ardent as the disk emerges more, Resemble most some city in a blaze, Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray And, tinging all with his own rosy hue, As they designed to mock me, at my side |